


How to shut up brilliant mind.

by Olsza



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sherlock Being Annoying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olsza/pseuds/Olsza
Summary: Sherlock doesn't have a case and John had a good solution to that.





	How to shut up brilliant mind.

It started simple like any normal day with Sherlock, if anything to do with that insane git could be called “normal.” John was sitting in his armchair and trying to read some crappy crime novel, unsuccessfully. His crazy friend seemed to be doing his best to annoy the hell out of him. John was almost at the end of his rope. Sherlock’s antics so far had included conducting some experiment that left the table and one of the chairs half burned and covered in some weird goo. Their flat now smelled like dead fish and ginger snaps and John deliberately ignored the mess in the kitchen. He knew that Sherlock wouldn’t touch it, but he wasn’t going to clean it either, at last not now. Sadly, this was a game that John always lost.  
  
Sherlock paced around their sitting room, vibrating with unspent energy. He was walking on the furniture and, John was sure, almost to the point of shooting the poor wall again. It was one of the detective’s worst strops and he was his top notch annoying self.  
  
“There must be something. Anything!” Sherlock shouted, still pacing.  
  
“Lestrade?” John suggested.  
  
Sherlock just snorted in answer.  
  
John shrugged. “Maybe there’s something on the blog?”  
  
“I already solved everything worthwhile this morning,” the detective said, finally halting before John. “Oh, how I envy your simple mind, John. Mine is like engine, on its highest gear and without oil.”  
  
“No cigarette for you, Sherlock,” John said, not even looking up from his novel. “And you better pray I won’t find any drugs…”  
  
“Hmph…” Sherlock snorted again and whirled to resume his pacing, his nightgown flaring dramatically as he moved. “It’s unbearable!”  
  
John sighed and put down his book. With Sherlock like this, he couldn’t focus on reading. The thing was he was close to his boiling point, but leaving in a huff to leave his mad flatmate to his antics was out of the question. It was raining cats and dogs outside. Rain wasn’t really something unusual in London, but it was a bloody storm with lighting and thunder and so much water that someone could actually take a shower out there. Although actually showering out in the rain was a crazy idea. So John couldn’t leave. But maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to shut up this brilliant mind before him.  
  
“Engines can be turned off, you know?” John said, casually looking at the burning logs in the fireplace. He started the fire earlier, thinking that it would be cold. He was right apparently.  
  
“Mine is more like…perpetual motion machine” Sherlock said.  
  
“No, it’s not,” John answered, frowning. “It’s dependent on your transport, as you put it. That’s why you’ve taken drugs.”  
  
Sherlock didn’t deny it. He actually didn’t say a thing, instead stopping in his tracks and frowning at John.  
  
“So, if I do something to occupy your body…I can shut up your mind, right?” John continued.  
  
“What are you talking about, John?” Sherlock finally asked, sitting in his armchair across the doctor.  
  
“You don’t know?” John said, visibly amused and not bothering to hide it.  
  
Sherlock frowned, annoyed by the prospect of not knowing something. “I can think of at least five different things that you could mean, but none of them match my deductions about your current behavior, so…”  
  
John smiled. He didn’t mind the arrogance in Sherlock’s tone; he knew it was just a defense. And a poor one, at that.  
  
“So, you don’t know?” John asked, teasing. “Somehow, I'm not surprised.”  
  
“John…” Sherlock whined.  
  
“All right, just…” John stopped and thought this over. If he was wrong, what he was planning could destroy their friendship and push Sherlock away…but he wasn’t wrong, was he?  
  
“John?”  
  
“Sherlock, do you trust me?” John asked.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Sherlock didn’t hesitate even for a second. John blinked surprised that this self-identified sociopath gave up his trust so easily. Something warm settled in John’s chest as he looked at the beautiful man before him.  
  
“Good. Ok.”  
  
John exhaled loudly and closed his eyes, bracing himself for what he was about to do. Then he stood up, with Sherlock watching his every move and looking very much like a deer caught in headlights on the dark deserted highway. Had he figured it out?  
  
John couldn’t tell, but still he stalked towards his friend, almost predatory, and leaned close to Sherlock, looking down at him. It was nice change of positions, since Sherlock normally towered over him and John constantly needed to tilt his head up to look in the eyes of this tall git. Sherlock eyes were still intently on him, his pupils dark and blown. His breathing also seemed to have picked up. John chuckled inwardly. Sherlock could be good at hiding his feelings, but some things just weren’t meant to be hidden.  
  
“John?”  
  
Sherlock’s voice was small and breathy, and it was the last straw for John. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Sherlock's. The man beneath him froze, surprised, then began to clumsily move his lips, matching John movements. John smiled slightly, not stopping their kiss and reached down with his left hand to thread his fingers through the soft curls. Sherlock moaned, parting his lips slightly, and John took advantage, slowly licking inside this gorgeous mouth. The first touch of their tongues took them both by surprise. Sherlock shivered and a little whine escaped his mouth as John drew back, breathless and giddy.  
  
“Good?” John asked, his voice deep and rough. He pressed his forehead against Sherlock's, smiling. “Did your big brain slow down even a little?”  
  
“I…” Sherlock bit his lip and drew back, avoiding John's eyes. “If you're doing this just because I'm pissing you off…”  
  
“What? Sherlock, no…no…look at me.” When Sherlock still refused to meet John’s eyes, John brushed his cheek and tilted his head up. “Sherlock. Look. At. Me.”  
  
The detective finally complied.  
  
“What do you see?” John asked, softly brushing his friend’s ridiculously high cheekbone with his thumb. Sherlock eyes widened and his breath hitched as he finally deduced John’s feelings .  
  
“Took you long enough to notice, you brilliant git,” John teased, and Sherlock pressed his head against the warm hand on his cheek. “So, should I continue?”  
  
“Yes,” Sherlock answered breathlessly and John closed the distance between their lips once more. The second kiss was more feverish, this time without the same uncertainty as before, but the angle wasn’t right and John drew back. Sherlock unconsciously leaned into him and John smiled at the sight.  
  
“Budge up, love,” John said, nudging at Sherlock legs to close them up, so he could sit in his friend’s lap. This time it was perfect and John ran his wandering hands through the dark curls, angling Sherlock head slightly to the right and it was… Oh, God.  
  
Sherlock’s hands had snuck under John’s jumper, a warm anchor at the small of his back, but he didn’t try to move them. Little needy noises were escaping Sherlock's mouth and traveling straight to John's groin. He finally drew back, nibbling gently at detective's lower lip. By then he was almost painfully hard, his trousers far too constraining. He resisted the urge to adjust himself and instead kissed his way down the pale column of Sherlock’s neck. Possessively, he sucked a bruise high enough that Sherlock wouldn’t be able to cover it, even wearing his usual scarf.  
  
“John…” Sherlock moaned and shivered as John's hands lifted his thread-bare t-shirt, touching the delicious pale skin underneath. John fingers reached Sherlock’s nipple and twitched it gently. The detective almost jumped out of his skin in surprise, a tiny whimper escaping his lips and fingers digging hard into John’s back. The shorter man smiled at that and squeezed the sensitive pebble between his thumb and forefinger. Sherlock's breathless gasp was all the encouragement he needed to inch the t-shirt farther up so he could lean down and gently take one of the buds between his lips. Sucking and flicking his tongue at it, he played with the other with his hand.  
  
Sherlock whimpered and squirmed underneath him, his fingers digging into John’s skin hard enough to leave a bruise. John found that he didn’t care, not with this beautiful man before him, showing him the most erotic sight he ever seen.  
  
“John…I…” Sherlock panted.  
  
John stopped and lifted his head up, looking into those dazed eyes. Christ, Sherlock expression was a sight to remember. John would wank to this memory for months.  
  
That thought made him remember his own state and he glanced down, finding Sherlock in a similar situation. A tight bulge was plainly visible in Sherlock’s pyjama bottoms, complete with a wet spot of precome. In the position that John was sitting, their cocks were almost touching, but not quite. John couldn’t resist and palmed the tall man though the material. Sherlock moaned loudly and his hips twitched of their own accord.  
  
“Good lad,” John murmured, hooking his fingers under the band of pyjama bottoms, tugging them down to reveal Sherlock’s hard and glistening cock. It exceeded anything he could have imagined, it was beautiful. John lifted his forefinger and slid it down the soft skin, earning himself a low whimper from the detective. The fingers on his back dug painfully deep as Sherlock squirmed under his ministrations.  
  
“John, please…” he pleaded, with so much desperation in his voice that doctor froze for a moment. The great Sherlock Holmes was pleading, not exactly an everyday occurrence. John looked up and drew a shaky breath, as he took his partner’s neediness. This beautiful man was doing wonders to his libido and it was already a miracle that he hadn’t come in his pants yet simply at the sight of this.  
  
He could stare at Sherlock like that forever, but they were both in a state that needed to be taken care of and he had a good idea how to do that. He lifted himself up from Sherlock’s knees and the detective unconsciously made a little whine at the loss. He was reminding John of a puppy, with his big dazed eyes and all the sounds he was making. The doctor just shook his head and started to unbuckle his belt and unzip his own pants.  
  
“John, what are you…?” Sherlock tried to ask.  
  
His mind clearly not in a state to deduce anything, John just smiled and took off his boxers, finally freeing himself from the tight wet material. He was already painfully hard and imagined Sherlock was too. John glanced at him and noticed the uneasiness on his face.  
  
“Sherlock, if you don’t want…”  
  
“No!” the man interrupted him, then bit his lip and avoided eye contact. “I just…can I touch you?”  
  
John just blinked at him. It was the first time that he seen this man, always full of self-confidence, so vulnerable. He finally smiled and he reached for the hem of his jumper and took it off. He unbuttoned his shirt but left it on. As he did, Sherlock watched him with hunger that was unfamiliar to John. He was used to Sherlock staring at him, he caught him doing that all the time. Although the detective always pretended that nothing had happened, that stare was always analysing, as if Sherlock was deducing him.  
  
“John?”  
  
Still that insecurity in his voice, the kind that made John want to cuddle him and take care of all his needs. So unlike his usual overconfidence.  
  
“You can do whatever you want, Sherlock,” John said, a little smile playing at his lips. He took his abandoned seat, settling again on Sherlock’s lap. The detective lifted his hand, lightly brushing John’s blond hair. Sherlock's look of pure wonder was breathtaking and John found himself watching him intently. When Sherlock’s right hand slid down, brushing slightly at John’s lips and neck, his left hand was slipping up from John’s thigh to ass, squeezing it a little. The smaller man couldn’t contain his moan, loving Sherlock’s exploration of his body.  
  
“John, is this alright?” Sherlock asked.  
  
He could deduce almost anything but this, he didn’t want to trust himself. There was always a slight chance that he could be wrong. Even as small as 0,001%, the chance still existed. And for John, he wanted to be 100% sure. To his surprise, the doctor just smiled and nodded.  
  
“You are like a precious gem, Sherlock,” John whispered, reaching up to kiss Sherlock’s deliciously full lips. This kiss was even better than the previous one. Sherlock was always a quick learner, but this was the first time that John really appreciated that.  
  
When long fingers wrapped around his cock, the doctor drew back, quickly catching Sherlock by wrist. Even slight stimulation now could make him come and he didn’t want that, not right now. He had a better plan.  
  
“John?”  
  
“It’s alright…I…” His answer came out more breathy than he intended and he took a few seconds to calm down. “Open your hand, Sherlock.”  
  
Sherlock looked a little lost but he obeyed nonetheless. John wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s, guiding it gently around both of their cocks. The sensation of their cocks colliding, rubbing against each other was too much for them both and they moaned in unison. John took another deep breath to compose himself and began a slow pace, leading them both. He quickly increased the rhythm, as it was obvious that neither of them would last long.  
  
“Jo…hn…I…” Sherlock moaned, clearly close.  
  
John twisted his hand and it was enough. Sherlock shouted and came. It was the last straw for John, who also finished. The only thing he could hear was his own loud heartbeat as he placed his head at Sherlock’s heaving chest.  
  
“You OK?” John asked his partner, still feeling boneless and a little like his limbs had turned to jelly.  
  
There was no answer from the detective.  
  
“Sherlock?” John lifted his head.  
  
The look on his partner face was one of dizzy, pleasured satisfaction.  
  
“I take your silence as a complement,” John said, chuckling. “I think we successfully turned off your big brain, hm?”  
  
“John!” Sherlock protested, flushing a lovely red.  
  
John just smirked at the sight, then stood up, feeling his joints crackle. He wasn’t so young any more. There was a white sticky substance quickly draining on both of them and John could really use a shower right now.  
  
“Come on, love, we need to clean up,” he said, offering his hand to Sherlock.  
  
The detective squirmed and looked up, still embarrassed.  
  
“Can we do it again?” he asked, John smiled at that. Sherlock reminded him of a child, asking if he could have another candy.  
  
“I don’t think I will be up for the next round so soon, but we can always find out,” he answered, smiling and Sherlock finally took his hand. “Let’s take a shower now…”  
  
Sherlock obediently fallowed his partner to the bathroom, for the first time in his life wishing that there wouldn’t be any case for a while.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~I don't have a beta reader, so it's probably a bit no good, but I still hope you'll like it. :)~~  
>   
>  Current brilliant and cleaned text thanks to [PerseShow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PerseShow/pseuds/PerseShow). Thank you so much. :)  
>   
> Comment all you want, I always appreciate a good critic. Also there will be more Sherlock related fanfics, but don't ask me when I don't know. I mostly write, when I have artist block with my book. It's a good way to blow some steam. ;3


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